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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065460">The Road Not Taken</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale'>DixieDale</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:00:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Many have pondered the choices life brings, though perhaps few have expressed it so well as Robert Frost in his poem 'The Road Not Taken'.  Craig Garrison is certainly no exception to such pondering, especially with this new mission, this new team he's leading into danger.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Road Not Taken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had all gone off like a dream come true, although, truth be told, Lieutenant Craig Garrison hadn't been all that confident, not in the beginning.  Working with a newly formed team, one he had minimal time to get to know and understand before they headed out on an important mission, that wasn't his ideal, even for a relatively minor job like this one.  Well, minor compared to most he was sent out on, anyway.  He'd argued for his own team, his Gorillas, but HQ had been adamant.</p><p>"It's not just getting this job done, you see.  We need a solid test for this new group, Lieutenant, and we feel you would be the most qualified to give us that.  They have similar, um, talents and skills as your current men, if somewhat more favorable backgrounds, as well as a better grounding in the military way of doing things.  </p><p>"While it appears your team is working out, however unlikely, we can hardly count on that being the case under other circumstances and there are a great many tasks that need doing.  </p><p>"We need to expand our resources, preferbly without resorting to such extremes in our recruiting as was done with YOUR team.  One success does not prove a point, obviously, and the next such recruitment attempt might backfire in a rather spectacular manner.  Far better if we can come up with a more reliable, more viable alternative." </p><p>The tone had turned both archly indulgent and just slightly contemptuous, though the officer was careful not to let it go beyond that.  This Lieutenant Garrison had a bit of a reputation for not taking insults well, at least not to his team.  Odd, perhaps, considering who and what they were, but it was real, or at least Colonel Salter had heard.  No sense getting the man's back up, not when they needed his cooperation.</p><p>Garrison was skeptical on various counts.  The military way of doing things was one thing, fine on the parade ground and certain specific situations, but once boots hit the ground, in wartime, especially behind enemy lines, he knew that wasn't always what was called for.  Especially in the espionage, gurrilla warfare, sabotage, and often less well-defined jobs he was often engaged in.  Well, he'd seen how often that 'military way' wasn't what was needed.  </p><p>And a 'more favorable background'?  He wondered whether that background would really provide the talents his men boasted of and, more importantly, truly possessed.  Maybe the technical skills, MAYBE, but the esoteric underlying mindset and instincts?  The mindset and instincts a man developed when knowing his next meal, maybe his very survival depended on them?  That was far more doubtful.  </p><p>And the addition of pretty Martine Phillips was a complication he really didn't need.  Yes, he understood the logic, even the ideal opportunity posed by the young and well-connected German couple defecting.  They'd managed it unbeknownst to those keeping a careful if supposedly benign eye on them, and if Garrison and Martine Phillips could slide into their travel plans, it could be ideal, at least on paper.</p><p>But posing as one half of a happily married couple, one still pretty much on their honeymoon, just sent the hair on the back of his neck at full alert.  Hopefully Martine Phillips would handle this professionally and not get any strange ideas.  </p><p>Oh, he'd worked with women in the field before; had the utmost respect for most of them and the job they did, knew most kept things quite professional.  Some damned well insisted on it, he knew, thinking of the O'Donnell sisters, in particular the Dragon, the so-called Ice Queen, Meghada O'Donnell.</p><p>It wasn't just his ego talking, making him think Martine might be a problem.  With some men, perhaps, but he HAD had a few uncomfortable experiences with the ladies, and not necessarily just the field agents, that had led to unwanted complications.  Heaven knows he already had more complications than any one man should have to deal with.  </p><p>Well, no, that wasn't the case, not really.  Some of those complications he would fight like anything to KEEP, but still there was the wear and tear on his mind to consider.  Not to mention Goniff's reaction.  Not that there wouldn't be a wry acceptance there, the acknowledgement that sometimes war took you into circumstances you wouldn't have volunteered for, but still, it wouldn't bring a smile.  </p><p>And sometimes there were repercussions, especially if Garrison gave even the slightest hint that he'd been a less than voluntary or eager participant.  Well, his pickpocket did take a dim view of 'those w'at can't take no for an answer, can't keep their 'ands off w'at don't belong to them.'  </p><p>That was amusing on one level, considering Goniff had a real problem there himself, keeping his hands off any bright sparkly item that caught his attention.  But that was with THINGS, not PEOPLE; therein lay the difference.  No, Goniff wouldn't take it well if Martine didn't respect any boundaries Garrison set in place.  Actually, neither would Meghada, but she was likely to show a little more restraint, perhaps a little less ingenuity in dealing with the issue.  Only slightly less, of course, and maybe he was mistaking 'more restraint' and 'less ingenuity' with something quite different, like maybe having a better cleanup system in place.  And he wasn't discounting those two joining forces on such a project, likely working in tandem there as smoothly as they did all else.  He shuddered to think of the possibilities.</p><p>So, he was hesitant, but being given no choice, he put the plan together and they put it into action.  </p><p>What he hadn't been expecting?</p><p>First, that, while none of the men could really be called a con artist, had more than a glimmer of talent for it even, the men DID have similar skills to his own quartet of wild card cons in other respects.  </p><p>Yes, HQ had told him so, but HQ had its own blind spots so he hadn't placed too much reliance on that claim.  </p><p>One guy, Bodine, could climb as well as Goniff, having worked high steel construction, could move like a shadow, and seemingly had nerves made of the metal he was so familiar with.  </p><p>Another, Timson, had worked for a lock and safe company and while not as talented as Casino as far as working under pressure, at least he knew how to get the job done as far as Garrison could tell.  Hopefully the safe they were aiming for would be within his range.</p><p>One man had been a trick shooter and knife man with a carnival and might even equal Chief at those skills.  That Kittrick was a slight of hand artist as well, that would be welcome, though Garrison noted he was nowhere as clever at it as their own pickpocket and his hawk-faced appearance was too eye-catching to let him blend into a crowd easily.</p><p>The last man of the new team, Anshell, acting as the Second In Comman, had been, of all things, the scion of the royal family of a small country that no longer existed thanks to the war, but had received a royal education.  He could out-aristocrat even Garrison's SIC, could speak several languages, and had a photographic memory.  </p><p>That, those skills and talents in particular, was more what Garrison was interested in than their military experience, but it seems they had that as well, enough to behave far more like actual soldiers than his guys would have ever thought to.  Hell, ever wanted to!  </p><p>One thing he was sure of, it would be more peaceful, not having to keep an eye out for any side ventures, any mischief his own guys might have gotten up to in the down times of this mission.  And he supposed it might be less distracting not to have Goniff climbing anything and everything challenging in sight, just for the practice, or Chief appearing and disappearing at odd moments.  He'd be able to focus and explain his plans to this group without Casino pointing out all the drawbacks.  And he probably (hopefully) wouldn't have to contend with a beautiful woman catching Anshell's attention, distracting him from the job, as frequently was the case with Actor. </p><p>All in all, Garrison should have been relieved, looked at this as a relatively pleasant break from the usual.  He SHOULD have, maybe.</p><p>Somehow, though, there was something missing.  Yes, these men had the skills, the talents needed, at least for the most part, but it wasn't the same, wasn't RIGHT somehow.  There was some element just not there, though he tried to tell himself it wouldn't matter, not to get the job done.  </p><p>Well, maybe not to get the job done, no, but as far as it being more peaceful, a pleasant break?  Not so much.</p><p>What it boiled down to, these guys were good, yeah, but they weren't HIS guys and he found that mattered far more than HQ would ever understand, ever accept.  More than he would ever have guessed in the early days.</p><p>And that wasn't all.</p><p>That Martine Phillips was a cheerful and quite professional field agent?  Fluent in several languages, socially adept.  Attractive, the right age to work this particular con, seemingly quite self-assured.  That was all to the good, of course.</p><p>That Martine fit into his arms as if she'd been made just for that purpose?  That they had an instant rapport?  That she was intelligent and crafty, could adapt to a shift in the situation as readily as if she'd been born to it?  He hadn't been expecting any of that, and wasn't at all sure that was a plus.  Oh, for the con, sure, for the job at hand - but not for his peace of mind.</p><p>Still, they got the job done, all of them.  Yes, there had been a few touchy spots, but frankly, more on his side than the others.  He found himself off-guard more than once, his focus momentarily shattered.  He'd turned more than once to give an order, blinked with consternation as not seeing the faces he was expecting.  </p><p>Having Bodine scale that building had been one thing; there had been no doubt the man swarmed up the construct as fast as Goniff might have, but he found himself strangely surprised to see that dark head, not the blond one he'd found himself searching the distance for.</p><p>To ask Kittrick to snatch a set of keys and then have the same man take out a guard silently and quickly seemed wrong, enough he was taken aback at how professionally both tasks were accomplished.  </p><p>He'd found himself waiting for the safecracker to make some smartass remark, deliver some complaint or maybe a dire prediction or two, and while Timson's cheerful and competent taking on of the mechanical work was welcome, still, it left him uncomfortable, as if something was missing.</p><p>The one thing that was more like what it should have been was his current Second In Command, but even that was unsatisfying.  Anshell was every bit as arrogant as Actor, almost as knowledgeable, certainly not lacking in self-confidence.  Somehow the others accepted all of that, though, didn't seem to get irritated as HIS guys would have, at least in the early days.  It was Garrison who found the whole performance annoying, actually; he tolerated Actor's airs far better than Anshell's for some reason.</p><p>Frankly, he was more than a little relieved to have the job done, head for the exit, back to the team he knew, the men he'd found himself missing on so many occasions.</p><p>No, he'd not trade his guys for these, no matter how skillful, how talented, how much more 'military' they might be.</p><p>And Martine?  That was equally if not more uncomfortable.  He had nothing, no one to compare her with, not really.  The O'Donnell sisters were professionals as well, of course, but far too foreign in nature to be measured against Martine Phillips, or for her to be measured against them, for that matter.  The other female agents he'd worked with, there had never been this level of natural rapport, he knew that.  For that matter, neither had any of the more casual of his female interactions.  </p><p>He knew he needed to figure that out, what it meant, and quickly.  He could tell she was interested in him personally, would probably make an approach, maybe even before they returned to London.  And he needed to be ready, be prepared.  Luckily he had a little time before that happened, but not much.</p><p>He saw her get up from the bench where she'd been drinking coffee, make her cautious way across the metal decking below, and braced himself.</p><p>"Craig?  I thought perhaps . . ."</p><p>He was all she'd ever thought she wanted in a man, and this ruse had given her ample opportunity to explore his depths, far more than she would have in any other setting.  If he felt anything near the same, then maybe . . .</p><p>Then she knew, could see it in his eyes.  While for HER, he was all she might be looking for, it just wasn't the same for him.  There was SOMETHING there, some fondness perhaps, maybe even a little regret, but not what she wanted, needed to see.</p><p>For a moment she felt betrayed, remembering all the words, the expressions, the consideration, the apparent tenderness he'd directed toward her.  Then she ruefully admitted that was what he was SUPPOSED to be displaying, that the con, the job had depended on it being believable.  </p><p>Still, it had seemed so real, real enough there had been times when even SHE forgot, if only momentarily, that they were all acting a prescribed role.  She'd even thought his being a total gentleman in private, never crossing the line, had meant something.  Now she had to admit to herself, yes, it HAD meant something, just not what she'd hoped, had led herself to believe.</p><p>{"Damn!  Could it REALLY have been an act?  All of it?  It seemed - HE seemed so sincere!"}</p><p>"Martine - " he started, then stopped in sheer frustration.  </p><p>He liked her, he really did.  Otherwise this probably wouldn't have been so difficult.  How to tell her that, under different circumstances, it might have been different.  That, if she'd come along earlier, it might have been different.  SHOULD he even tell her?  Somehow that seemed the wrong thing to do, laying a burden on her that just wouldn't be fair.  And he certainly didn't want to do, OR say anything that would cause her to set her sights even more firmly on him, try to convince him.</p><p>Could he be convinced?  That was something he'd let himself ponder on the trip back.</p><p>He could still feel her snuggled so close to him, fitting so well, not a trace of awkwardness in their bodies.  In dancing, in the double bed they'd shared at the hotel, even in that initial embrace as he supposedly joined his 'wife' after an absence of several days.</p><p>It had gone no farther than that, he'd made sure of that, just some warm displays of affection when there was any possibility of them being seen.  Nothing near that in private, certainly nothing as intimate as MIGHT have been the product of their acting, although it had taken some fancy manoeuvering on his part to keep it to that.</p><p>Oh, there were times on a job when such restraint was counterproductive and he'd not held back, had done what Goniff firmly declared to be 'a patriotic duty!'  It was hardly unpleasant, especially when that 'duty' was appealing, when that 'duty' was willing and more.  It certainly wouldn't have been unpleasant with Martine.</p><p>But this was different, SHE was different.  She was what he now ruefully admitted, now thought of, as 'the road not taken'.  </p><p>Accordingly, she deserved not to be conned, and his taking things to their natural conclusion in that hotel room, that soft bed in that darkened room, would have been far too close to that, a lie not of words but of the body.  </p><p>For a fleeting moment he regretted the timing, that she HADN'T come along earlier, before he had other committments, before his heart had already made its firm declaration of its intentions.  Just for a moment, though, since his heart HAD declared otherwise and he had no complaints, not really.  </p><p>He felt his heart give him a quick kick in the pants for that seemingly less than enthusiastic acknowledgement of the bonds he shared now, and ruefully agreed he wasn't being fair.  It wasn't that he 'had no complaints'; it was that, other than for the war, he was more contented, happier than he'd ever been.  If he couldn't say that to many people, he at least should be honest enough to say it to himself.</p><p>And, he realized, there was often a reason a path was not taken, often a very good one.  Yes, he could see his former self with Martine, marrying her, steadfastly climbing the ranks of the military.  She would probably make an exemplary officer's wife, would give him the support, the encouragement he would need if he pursued that path.  With her at his side, he would probably make the journey, possibly even achieve the rank of General, as his parents had firmly insisted was his destiny.  </p><p>No, they hadn't expressed any confidence in his ability, only their firm determination that it was his responsibility, what he owed them.  But still, with Martine, it would have been possible; he could see that now.</p><p>But that wasn't him, not anymore.  He'd studied the scales, weighed the options, the positives and the negatives.  Yes, he could have had Martine, he could have had the rank and the acclaim and all that went with it.  </p><p>Still could, he admitted, if he smoothed the waters, set his focus on that goal, turned away from the others, the individuals he'd linked his fate with and the goals that had come to him more recently.   </p><p>He could do that, probably even while managing to continue to lead his own team, get them through this war and help them settle afterwards.  He had a feeling Martine would wait, would understand his responsibilities to see this through, at least for now.</p><p>Yes, he could have all of that, and he could feel his parents standing at his shoulder, giving their stern approval - well, not their approval so much as their orders - for that cosmic shift from his current path, a path that so appalled them.  Perhaps that was only in his imagination, but he didn't doubt the truth of it.</p><p>But that future, the one they were demanding, could only come in return for giving up what he had come to realize he wanted - no, what he NEEDED far more - his own life, lived as he wanted, fulfilling his OWN dreams and goals and desires, not his parents'.</p><p>He could feel those disapproving looks growing stronger as they perceived his denial of their wishes, could start to hear their harsh criticism spilling over, and steadfastly refused to look around to perhaps see them standing there like they did sometimes.  </p><p>{"Uninvited guests, uninvited ghosts, just waiting for the chance to haunt me again."}</p><p>He thought ruefully that he'd give anything for Goniff to be there, to chase those phantoms away like the pickpocket had done before.  </p><p>{"Chasing my parents away, them with all their scolding, their demands, their accusations - shooing them away like they were a pair of noisome geese disrupting my peace, fouling up my footing underneath, making a general nuisance of themselves.  Oh, what a sight!"}</p><p>And then, it was as if his wish had borne unexpected fruit, for in the back of his mind he heard that raspy voice telling him what he knew his pickpocket would have said if he'd been standing there.  "You 'ave a right to your own life, Craig!  If this Martine, if being a ruddy general is w'at you want, then fine; you just reach out and grab 'old!  No one's gonna stand in your way, not me or 'Gaida, or the guys neither; you KNOW that!  But if it's not, then you 'ave a right to decide w'at IS, you know!  You 'ave a ruddy damned right to be 'appy, or at least make a decent stab at it!!"</p><p>And with that, a misty form appeared, if only in his mind, and now, accompanied by growling and indignant squealing, his father, his mother retreated from that conjured figure, scolding and frowning and flapping those talented hands at them, them disappearing into the distance, still offering their unwanted, unsolicited opinions.</p><p>A fond smile graced his face, turning him from handsome to something even more, and Martine regretted to the depth of her being the words she knew were coming.</p><p>"Martine, it was just a job.  I 'm sorry if it seemed more.  I have - well, there's someone waiting for me.  I really -"  That was more than blunt, but he didn't think there was any easy way to say it, and at least that got it out in the open.</p><p>She quickly gathered her pride, her professionalism around her and interrupted to answer him before he finished.</p><p>"Well, of COURSE you do, Craig!  Somehow I can't imagine it being otherwise.  And yes, it was just a job!  I'm not such a fool as that, you know, to mistake pretend for something more real.  But we did carry it off splendidly, didn't we?  I imagine there was no one who would have doubted us!  If you ever need a recommendation as husband-material, feel free to send them to me.  I'll give you a glowing report, I promise!  But, as you say, you already have someone waiting, so I doubt I'd ever be called on to do THAT!  I imagine that's not in question, not in their mind."</p><p>And somehow, as she said the words, they became truth, and her sudden rush of bitterness faded into nothingness, and the reality became no more than that what should have been expected.  Any hesitation she might have felt at letting this man go without further protest was no more.  </p><p>She had a place, a role to fufill, though she didn't quite know what that was at this time.  That Craig Garrison was not a part of that, she understood, if she didn't quite comprehend the specifics, not as of yet and perhaps she never would.  He had his own role already chosen, it would seems, though she wondered for a moment about the person waiting for him, the one linked to that role.  She only hoped whoever it was, that they knew they'd grabbed the brass ring with this man, would appreciate him as he deserved.</p><p>In any case, he had his destiny, she had hers.  That those didn't touch, couldn't be mingled, that was unfortunate perhaps, but that was simply the reality of matters.  She might have fond memories, but she wouldn't pine, she promised herself.  That would be unfair to both of them.</p><p> </p><p>They got back to London, mission accomplished, each heading to their own debriefing.  Garrison returned to the Mansion, his team, and if his description of the men he was working with got him some uncomfortable looks, his description of Martine did as well.</p><p>"This Martine, sounds like she's an alright sort," Goniff offered during the conversation.  "You thinking to see 'er again some time, outside the jobs, I mean?"</p><p>There had been no condemnation there, no accusation, either in the pickpocket's face or his tone, though Garrison could see a hint of concern in those blue eyes.</p><p>Garrison smiled and shook his head.  "I don't think so, Goniff.  Yes, she's an 'alright sort', but that's not the same as being 'just right', you know," he said, watching the Cockney relax at that reassurance.</p><p>Casino scoffed.  "All those crazy lines you draw, Warden; I just don't get it.  Hell, when does a dame have to be 'just right', even 'alright' like the Limey was sayin'.  Sometimes just being a dame is enough.  Well, as long as she meets a few OTHER particulars, of course!"</p><p>And while Casino started to spell out those particulars for probably the thousandth time, the others exchanged a knowing grin and started reciting them one or two beats before he announced them.</p><p>"Blonde, with hair down to here - built, like this - " their hands outlining an improbably-abundant shape in the air in front of each of them.  </p><p>"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you like, but I don't go around expecting any of them to be that 'just right' shit the Warden seems to.  You ever think, you may never even meet UP with one of those 'just right' types?  What you're missing in the meantime?  Hell, Warden, it just ain't natural, ya know?"</p><p>"Never you mind pestering the lieutenant, Casino," Goniff scolded.  "Think the man knows w'at 'e wants better than you do; more likely to get w'at 'e wants too, that way.  Least 'e ain't as confused about it all as some people I know, not naming names of course.</p><p>"By the way, 'Gaida's back.  I might 'ead down there after 'ours if you don't mind, Lieutenant?" came as an innocent inquiry.  The invitation lingering in the back of those blue eyes wasn't quite as innocent, perhaps, but was welcome anyway.</p><p>"We'll see, Goniff," Garrison said sternly.  "Now, what's this Gil was telling me about the safe in my office?"</p><p>That aroused a flurry of explanations, part even possibly being true, though in the end Garrison did send his pickpocket off to the cottage where the redheaded ex-contract agent lived.  The others settled down to a three-handed game of poker, though they'd invited Garrison to join them.  They weren't overly surprised when he declined; sometimes he joined the game, sometimes he didn't.</p><p>As for Garrison, he had plans for his evening, though he didn't bother to share them with the guys, just firmly told them to stay out of trouble while he was gone.</p><p>A short drive took him to the rear of the pub, the garage set aside for him to use when he wanted.  A quick walk along the rear path through the woods beyond and he was at his destination - both his immediate and long-term destination.</p><p>"Welcome, Craig," came a warm voice as Meghada pushed a glass of whiskey into his hand, dropped a kiss on his cheek.  </p><p>"W'at kept you, Craig?  Was expecting you at least, oh, five minutes ago.  Get lost, maybe get distracted by all the stars out tonight?  Decided to pick out a few of the constellations before coming along?" came the cheeky comment from the smirking figure in the big armchair facing toward the kitchen.</p><p>"I hurried as fast as I could; had to get the guys settled first.  Why, did you think I'd stop for some star-gazing, maybe a smoke or a drink?  I wouldn't, not when I'm on my way home," he responded with a laugh, settling down to enjoy his evening.  Taking a good look around, he smiled to himself.  {"And home it is.  No, this isn't 'sort of alright', this IS 'just right'!  THEY are 'just right'!"}</p><p> </p><p>The call for him to return to London was an annoying interruption since he was trying to work through a new strategy with the team.  Still, when HQ calls, even the most dedicated officer has to respond.  </p><p>Meeting Martine in the hallway had been only slightly awkward and then not even that since she gave no sign of anything other than a friendly and professional greeting.  </p><p>He'd wondered briefly if he should ask if she wanted to have lunch with him after his meeting, but decided against it.  There was no telling how long Colonel Bloodworth would keep him, and besides, it was too soon.  Maybe in time they would become friends in reality, but for now, such an invitation would maybe seem like he'd changed his mind, or was at least considering it, and that simply wasn't the case.  So they parted with a friendly smile and nothing more.</p><p>Now seated across the desk from Colonel Bloodworth, he blinked in surprise at what was being outlined, being offered.  Command of the group he'd gone out with, those men with an unlikely blending of soldierly qualities AND un-soldierly talents.  To sweeten the deal, if he accepted, there would be an immediate promotion, with strong hints of others to follow, perhaps in rather quick order.</p><p>A fleeting thought of Martine crossed his mind.  </p><p>{"You'd think once I made up my mind which road to take, those cutoffs, the branches leading to 'the road not taken' would stop appearing so frequently, like they're TRYING to pull me off course!  Still, I guess whoever, whatever, maybe Fate itself, wants me to be sure, wants to give me enough room to stop and think, maybe turn around and make a different choice if I'm not absolutely sure,"} he thought ruefully.  {"Of course, if a man did that too often, the turning around and heading down a different path, he'd most likely find himself going in circles."}</p><p>Well, he'd made his choice, several of them in fact, and he wasn't going to second guess himself now.</p><p>He gave the superior officer a brief and utterly professional smile.  </p><p>"I appreciate the offer, sir, but I'm not the man for the job.  I'm fine with the team I'm with; I know them, they know me.  We get the job done as well as anyone else could considering the missions we're sent out on.  For this lot, Anshell would be a better choice; he's got the experience, he's too good to stay SIC and the others respect him, will follow him willingly."</p><p>Colonel Bloodworth thought about arguing, but somehow he didn't think that would sway the young officer.  There was rock solid determination in those green eyes, no hesitation or self-doubt.</p><p>Well, if Garrison HAD accepted, that would have left the issue of those Gorillas of his to deal with, and frankly Bloodworth couldn't think of anyone other than Garrison who could manage that unruly lot anyway.  If Garrison HAD accepted, there had been talk of sending them back to the jail cells they'd been pulled out of, but the colonel thought that would truly be a waste.  Garrison was right about that - they got the job done as well as, perhaps better than, anyone else could, at least under Garrison's leadership.  It would be a shame to waste a resource like that.  And having another talented team, perhaps under Anshell's leadership since Garrison thought him well-suited to the task, would be an added resource as well.  Perhaps it WAS better this way.</p><p> </p><p>Arriving back at the Mansion, Craig Garrison breathed a sigh of relief that Colonel Bloodworth hadn't been more insistent.  A direct order would have been difficult to deal with, caused him to have to call in favors he'd just as soon not touch unless truly necessary.  Oh, he WOULD, to keep his team together, but there might be another threat, another need in the future, and he didn't want to approach that hypothetical need with an empty wallet, so to speak</p><p>"Sounds like the Lieutenant's back," Goniff said, pausing in his interminable game of solitaire.  His face showed the conflicting thoughts that brought.  He was glad Garrison was back safely, knowing with the lieutenant that couldn't be taken for granted; if anyone could get banged up on a simple run up to London, it was their leader.  Still, he was more than a little uneasy on a variety of levels.  </p><p>"Rumor is, they're gonna offer him a promotion this time, a different outfit," Casino frowned, repeating what they all knew, had discussed more than once.  "Guess he impressed the hell outta them that last job out."</p><p>Goniff had been steeling himself for the answer to that ever since he'd heard.  HQ's rumor mill, the grapevine, it had already told the story.  If Craig accepted, what would that mean, for the guys, for him, for Craig?  It was Craig's decision, no doubt about it; Goniff certainly wasn't going to try and stop the blessed man from doing something he really wanted, (well, not unless it was really, really dumb), but still . . .</p><p>Actor tried not to let the concern he felt show.  They'd know soon enough what the situation was; no sense in letting his worry tilt the scales.</p><p>"You think he'd bail?" Chief asked, no emotion on his face, in his voice.  That alone told how concerned he was; he'd gotten much more open with them, enough that a smile, some honest sharing, wasn't that uncommon, at least not here, with them.</p><p>"A promotion ain't something to snap your fingers at, Indian.  He's way overdue anyhow.  If he didn't have a way of getting their backs up, he'd have gone up the ladder a long time ago."  </p><p>Well, Casino did have a way of looking on the dark side, though he called it just being practical.  Right now, they could have done without that dose of practicality; it didn't help their apprehension one bit.</p><p>They listened, heard those footsteps climbing the stairs, waited while the door was opened and their leader stepped in.</p><p>"Well, what are you waiting for?" Garrison demanded with a stern look.  "As I remember it, we were in the middle of figuring out a way to get around that new sentry setup the Germans have in place.  Next time we might not end up so lucky as last.  Now, let's get moving, try out that con, the fancy footwork we were talking about!"</p><p>The men looked at each other, wondering how to read that, if there was anything there TO read.</p><p>Actor sighed and donned the role of SIC.  He, like the others, needed to know where they stood if they were to focus on that slippery bit of deception.</p><p>"Yes, of course, Craig.  But I think we have the right to know.  ARE you taking the promotion, the new assignment?"  </p><p>Actor didn't ask about their own fate, not yet.  That would come or not, depending on the answer he got to THAT question.</p><p>Well, if Garrison didn't know they'd already heard about the offer he should have; he knew how quickly that grapevine worked as well as anyone.  He was just surprised the word of his refusal hadn't arrived before him.</p><p>Garrison purposefully let that stern look turn into a frown.</p><p>"What, you thought you were going to get rid of me THAT easily?  Maybe get some newbie in here who wouldn't know the cons you guys can pull, someone who'd let you get away with just about anything?  I don't think so.  I wouldn't dream of putting some poor guy in that position.  No, you're mine, whether you like it or not; better just get used to it, because that's the way it is, the way it's going to stay.  Got it??!"</p><p>Then he let that frown lessen, let the smile he was feeling inside show in his eyes if just barely on his lips.  Well, how could he help it, when each of his wild card cons were showing their approval of that concept, each in their own way.  </p><p>"Guess we'd just better get used to it, guys," Chief said dryly, a slow smile easing that impassive look.  "Looks like the Warden's not gonna let us off the hook."</p><p>"Damn!  And here I was thinking all we could get up to with some damn fool regular officer type in charge!  Shit, Warden, you SURE you don't wanna take that promotion?" Casino asked, grumbling but with a smirk fighting to take over.</p><p>Actor just looked at Garrison, saw the contentment, the satisfaction there, and nodded as he put his pipe away and rose from his comfortable seat in the armchair.</p><p>"Well, I suppose we need to get back to work on that sentry issue since we're going to have our feet held to the fire once again."</p><p>And his pickpocket?  If that grin got any wider, Goniff's face would probably split in two.  </p><p>Garrison might think on that 'road not taken' on occasion, but somehow, he didn't think he'd regret his OWN road, the one he'd chosen.  No, when you found 'just right', a smart man didn't go second guessing himself.</p>
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